What's in the Looking Glass?
by DarkDevon13
Summary: A new ballerina, Isabel, appears at the doorsteps of the Opera Populaire, and everyone is glad to have her. But is she all she appears to be? Erik isn't so sure. Set a few years before the movie
1. Chapter 1

_France, 1439_

Isabel ran with everything she had, adrenaline and fear being her primary motivators. The mob was closing in on her, chasing her, hunting her down like an animal. Everything had been going so _well_. Until that damnable cleric had come. It usually took far more than ignorance to trap a true witch, but in this case it seemed to be.

She had been careful to the point of paranoid. She had told no one, done nothing to make anyone even _suspect _her secret. But she must've slipped up at some point. Must've done _something _wrong.

But now was not the time to consider the past, if she was to ever have a _future_.

Hiding behind a large tree, she looked up in the sky. The moon shone a bright orange in the sky. _A Hunter's Moon_ Isabel remembered, _How ironic as I am now being hunted._ The moon glistened on her sliver amulet, hanging low between her breasts. Suddenly, she remembered. Her power came from the lovely looking glass, or anything reflective, really, she had traveled that way numerous times, why not stay for awhile?

It was a simple enough spell, and combined with the full moon's power and her own it should be easy enough. She was a mirror witch after all.

She would put her soul into her amulet.

Spying a herb nearby that should increase her chances, Isabel began the incantation.

* * *

Finding the witch had not been as easy as Friar Braun had hoped. She was fast for one, and held the advantage of whatever demonic pact she held with Satan. But with the good Lord's Holy Light, and more than a little luck, they had found her.

Just not alive.

She was pale- her eyes untracking as they approached. In her mouth was a herb one of the locals said was very poisonous. Obviously she had decided to go back to Satan's harem rather than face Holy Judgment. A coward's way out, surely, but one that benefitted the most people. She would've been burned at the stake anyhow; this just saved them the trouble of a trial.

Around her neck was a silver pendent, simple but somewhat pretty. But with no God-Fearing woman in her right mind wanting to be in any way associated with the harlot, and not knowing what else to do with it, it was just given to the local tax collector later that year as payment.

* * *

Lady Vallis _adored _her new pendent. It was quite simple, truly, but elegant and well made. It would go splendidly with all of her finery and dresses. She had seen it when the tax collector came with his mountain of gold and positively _had _to have it. Her husband had been stubborn at first, insisting that she take a look at all the _other_ jewelry. But her heart was strangely set on it.

One of her daughters or sisters could have it if she lost interest, but it was perfect for now.

* * *

_1790_

The Revaluation had begun. Bled bone-dry by their royal leaders, the peasants had risen up. Charging the Vallis castle, the locals raided and burned down what couldn't be stuffed into their pockets.

A young man named Jon noticed a particular silver pendent in the Countess's room. Knowing his Maria would love it, he yanked it out of the box.

She would love it.

* * *

_1861_

Carlotta dangled the small pendent from her fingers. It was silver, and simple. But most importantly, it wasn't_ pink_. The drooling admirer who had given it to her claimed that it had belonged to his grandmother, and that she'd worn it since her wedding day.

Pah, as if _that _had meant anything to her.

But it was strangely alluring. And would go well with her costume in the next opera- she would be playing a pauper-turned-princess.

La Carlotta put it on, strangely feeling all the more beautiful.

* * *

Waking up from a deep sleep was unpleasant to even the most active of people. Being shock out of a blissful state of warmth and unawares was something everyone dreaded each new morn.

Being woken up by the shrill voice of La Carlotta was far worse.

That was the first instance that Isabel felt as she was jolted awake from her blissful sleep. One she'd been enjoying for quite some time now.

But as the saying goes, no rest for the wicked. Or at least, no rest could last for eternity.

Figuratively stretching her non-existant muscles, she blurredly wondered wither or not to kill her new impromptu alarm clock. Her _talents_ as a witch had not diminished in the least these past, oh what was it? Two? Three Hundred years? Time had grown bleak and meaningless.

Releasing her spirit had been slightly harder than she had thought.

First of all, she needed a body. Outright possession was difficult and tricky, you needed to force your way inside someone's mind, but then you had to take on their personality otherwise it would be obvious to the Inquisitors that something was wrong. She might as well just grow a body for all the trouble it would be. Suddenly another brilliant idea formed in her mind. Sure, it would be a whole lot harder for her than her usual spells; she needed to be looking at a mirror for one, and given she couldn't exactly force a person to go to one in her current situation. She would be dealing with some tricky magicks that would test her skills to the limit. But it would be worth it, she hoped.

Meanwhile, the talentless diva sang on.

* * *

The next hour was more unbearable than any other in Isabel's life. Thank Nyx when it was over. In the middle of a 'costume change' the amulet had been left on a vanity. Using telekinesis, she positioned the amulet to be in front of the mirror. A blurry image of Isabel appeared though she held no physical form.

Seeing herself for the first time in centuries, Isabel did what she had never done while still corporeal- changed her appearance. Hair once ugly dirt brown was now a lovely reddish blonde. Skin, freckled and scarred, now became smooth and flawless. Cool lavender eyes replaced her drab blue ones. Her once flab and weak form would become fit and taunt like a bow- or like that of the pretty ballerinas. She also made her... assets bigger and better to give herself a little treat.

She gazed at her new body by design, and smiled. _Perfect. _

Now all she had to do was form it. And that required blood. She also needed an excuse to stay at the Opera House, given that she was starting to like the place.

She found both in the form of the young Christine Daae.


	2. Chapter 2

Christine Daae sighed as she sat amidst the large dance mirrors in the ballet rats' practice room. It had been almost a week since her dear Papa's passing and she still wasn't quite over it, in fact, she wasn't sure she would ever be entirely over it. Would this darkness that had invaded her soul stay there forever? Or would the pain fade away with time? Christine also had no friends; Madame Giry was kind but stern, and an adult besides. Her daughter, Meg, was alright, but they were still hardly more than acquaintances. Maybe with time they would grow closer, but not right now.

Suddenly, a little golden laugh, like bells, sounded behind her. Christine was shocked out of her thoughts and glanced up into the mirror. In the reflection there was a girl, about her age, with black hair, very pale skin and wearing a ballet rat's uniform. Christine didn't remember ever seeing her before, before a voice of cool logic told her that she hadn't been here that long and she just hasn't seen her yet, or maybe the girl was new too.

"Hello," the girl said in a musical voice, "are you alright?" There was something in her voice that Christine instantly trusted, something that made the unbridled sadness in her heart fade, and dim into almost nothing.

"I'm alright." She'd said that countless times since her Papa's funeral, but this was the first time that she'd truly meant it. The girl nodded.

"There's a glass of water on the table, you look like you could use some." Christine nodded, a thick fog of complacency settling over her mind. Turning around, she didn't notice that there was no girl behind her, didn't feel her steps towards the table, and saw, as if from a very far distance, herself picking up the glass, and suddenly dropping it.

Shards of glass sprayed over the dance floor, some large, some small, some no larger than needles. The girl in the mirror smiled wickedly. "Good girl, now pick it up." Christine nodded and knelt down to pick up the shattered glass, completely unfeeling as cuts scrapped her fingers. The whole world had taken on a dream-like quality, as if everything in here now was not quite real. Somewhere under the fog over her mind, young Christine began to panic. Feeling her distress and sensing the possible resistance to its control, the fog inside her mind became smothering, yet somehow soothing to the young girl.

* * *

Isabel gritted her teeth in frustration, the girl was panicking. She knew that a complacency spell affected each person differently, but never had anyone tried to resist it once it was completely in place. Isabel vaguely wondered wither this Christine had magic herself, for only witches could completely fight off spells once they were in place. A quick search through the child's mind found that though the girl knew all sorts of stories of magic and wizards from her father, not a drop of true information or training rested within her. She would have to work quickly.

Doubling the strength of the spell she had the girl press her bloodied fingers to the glass of the great mirrors, and then Isabel began to chant.

"_Blood from this Blood_

_Life from Life_

_End my time in this Immortal Strife_

_Mirror takes shape, glass bend and moan_

_Give this spirit strength and form"_

A chant wasn't strictly necessary for this part, it could've probably been done with sheer force of will, but the words helped her concentration and added to her power and chances of success. She could feel the power of this mirror, all the beauty and strength seen over the years. Of hopes dashed and dreams fulfilled, there was a kind of power in that. Power, she could use.

"_Glass Immortal, fill my mind,_

_My power to yours, do bind._

_Recognize now your sister here,_

_Who in her heart holds you most dear"_

Slowly, slower than she could remember going in, Isabel exited the glass she had lived in for so long. Leaving the warmth she'd know for so long to enter into the cold world, she imagined that this was what it was like to be born. When she looked at the world again, she saw it with human eyes. And after a few centuries of pure consciousness, the weight of her body felt heavy and alien.

Looking up, Isabel saw that the young girl was silently shaking in absolute terror. She must've seen Isabel come out of the mirror and the utter shock of the sight would've lifted the spell on the young girl's mind. Not entirely sure why, Isabel took the scared girl into her arms and stroked her curly hair as she whispered a spell of forgetfulness.

* * *

The next thing she knew, Christine was being held tight by a woman she did and at the same time did not recognize. The lady had the same cool lavender eyes and straight black hair as a little girl she remembered meeting once, but was much older. Releasing that her finger tips now hurt for some unknown reason, she looked down and saw that they were red and bloody. As she started to wonder how they'd gotten that way, the woman touched Christine's fingers with her own, and while the blood still remained, her tiny digits were no longer cut.

When she looked up to thank the nice lady, as her papa had taught her to always do when someone helped you, Christine saw that the lady was completely naked. Christine glanced away out of courtesy, and tried not to blush.

"Umm, ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"Aren't you…uh, naked?" The lady blinked once before glancing down.

"Huh, you're right." The flat tone of her voice told Christine that the lady either didn't care that she was naked or didn't think much of it. When Christine gathered enough courage to look back up, she realized that the lady was gone, and the other ballet rats were coming in from luncheon to start practice. Christine's mind was on the nice lady the rest of the day, and Madame Giry had to chastise her twice that practise for not focusing hard enough on her movements.

Days later, Christine found herself in front of the ballet mirrors again, and could swear she saw out of the corner of her eye the Lady, wearing a nice blue dress with her long hair up in a loose bun. The Lady smiled in her direction, and when Christine turned around, there was nothing there at all.

A week later, while praying in the chapel, Christine began to hear the most beautiful music, and she didn't think about the mysterious lady anymore.


End file.
